Lovesick

It is not all sunshine and roses.

We should know better by now.

Yet we still fall for the trap

 

the oldest and most bittersweet.

There is no first sight; that’s a lie.

There’s no way of knowing

 

until you find yourself in its grasp.

There is an alluring aroma,

within the claws, sticky and thick.

 

Then there’s the taste

that leaves you craving, never quite sating.

You choose a favorite flavor.

 

There is no question of why

we keep going back for seconds

willingly clogging our arteries.

 

The confusion only sets in after it hurts

and the realization hits that it is you

That has been consumed.

Two Artists

Two artists on the street

I am aware of her presence

She is unaware of me

She displays her craft for all to see

strumming her heart along guitar strings,

dressed in black and creating melodies

She carries a small amp in her hand

a burden upon her travel plans?

Would she understand if she saw me now

writing my observance

Would it cause her disturbance

to know that she has inspired me?

Love Too Hard

My problem is that when I love

I love too hard

What’s dear becomes sacred

Fondness escalates to devotion

Yearning is an ache

Adoration never without dedication

Passion always full, never in rations

Once the taste is developed

no other flavor will ever do

My attachment swallows me whole

leaves me consumed

I love too hard

Hurt You

I’ve never thought of harming anyone

Never thought of wronging them intentionally

I’ve never thought myself ruthless

Never thought myself sick

mentally

I just want to hurt you

Like you’ve hurt me

Because you’ve killed me

I just want to smite you

Immobilize you

It’s suffocating

I never thought of pushing down

someone in front of a train

Never thought of laughing

at the expense of anyone’s pain

I just want to hurt you

Like you’ve hurt me

Because you scarred me

I just want to drown you

demonize you

It’s so degrading

It’s all for nothing

You’ve been dead for years

This stinging should have healed

and it’s still here….

I guess it’s true

some wounds never close

at least, not all the way

Because I want to hurt you

I’ve hurt me.

Colors

You see the rosy exterior

quick to admire the vibrant red

ignoring the thorns beneath

fearful of being pricked

That it may reveal the deep blue

blood from within

disrupting your perfect crimson

All colors are valid

there is no one true pallet

What can be obscene

if all roots emerge

from the green